


The Alcove

by RoseHeart



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Future Fic, Post - A Dance With Dragons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-09
Updated: 2014-09-09
Packaged: 2018-02-16 19:27:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2281755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseHeart/pseuds/RoseHeart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A one shot inspired by the lovely art by jokertookmypicture.  </p>
<p>Jaime and Brienne have survived war and winter.  But now they must try to find their new lives amidst something they have never truly experienced before: peace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Alcove

**Author's Note:**

  * For [joker_mags](https://archiveofourown.org/users/joker_mags/gifts).



> This story was inspired by two pieces of amazing, uplifting, beautiful art that was created by the amazing, uplifting, beautiful Mags. They can be seen here, as well as a plethora of other gorgeous pieces that will kill you with feels: [Alcove Kiss 1](http://jokertookmypicture.tumblr.com/post/89794313494/he-kissed-her-amid-the-green-spring-foliage-the) and [Alcove Kiss 2](http://jokertookmypicture.tumblr.com/post/90979094299/a-different-perspective-of-t-h-i-s-drawing)
> 
> Maggie, jokertookmypicture, has been an amazing source of support and inspiration and, most importantly, friendship. This is only a small thing that I could offer her to show my thanks for how much she brightens my day and continues to be my muse. Thank you, my heart!
> 
> I would also like to thank my dear beta, Coraleeveritas, for spending a lot of time helping me improve this one shot and continuing to teach me how to write deeper scenes. I learn so much from her!

Waking up was still a sudden jolt, an icy wash that started behind Brienne’s eyelids and sunk down to tingle in her toes. Though she could not help but rise well before the sun, the mornings continued to come to her so violently that her first, instinctual, response was to slide her callused hands along silk to search out her sword.  When her mind finally snapped away from her haunting dreams and slammed back into the present, her stomach would roll like she was cresting a wave, as she rapidly came to her senses.   

She was not sleeping on cold earth or snatching a moment’s rest slumped against a dead tree or crumbled wall anymore. But her body and head continued to force the same sensations through her slumbering bones.  Brienne wondered if she would ever become used to opening her eyes to find herself in a large, warm chamber after spending a long night on a plush featherbed, complete with clean sheets and soft furs to wrap up in. 

But, despite the daily shock of waking in the unfamiliarly comfortable space, the quiet was the most difficult to accept. Over the years she had known the deathly chill brought on by the silence of an undead enemy and the hush of the very breath being burnt up in the brilliant flames of flying beasts. But the stillness after the battles of men had always been the worst for her.  It was a heavy weight that constricted her chest while the cries of the dying echoed in her ears like blasts and, when the only world she knew started to close in on her, she could not tell friend from foe. 

This calm was new to her, though she had heard the whispers of it ringing through rooms as people dared to speak its name. _Peace_.  But all she had ever experienced was turmoil.  She was a child of steel and winter and this sudden tranquility that blanketed the air and fringed the chill with a taste of spring, was something that she was never supposed to encounter. 

Yet, she still awoke before dawn, alive, though not fully rested.  Oathkeeper, which was supposed to be hanging in a place of honor in the great hall, was not close at hand, but held above the mantle of the ornate fireplace in her room. Her armor had been equally cleaned and polished, the dents banged out and the pieces she had lost over time replaced seamlessly with beautifully dyed blue metal, and was now stored carefully in the dark wooded wardrobe, on the other side of the chamber. 

With a grunt, Brienne peeled herself from the mattress, practically tumbling from the bed as she tried to right herself against yielding softness.  She padded over warm stone to retrieve clothes from the trunk at the foot, hardly bothering to look at what she retrieved.  It felt strange to simply toss on a cotton tunic and woolen breeches rather than what was hidden behind delicately carved doors.  She walked through her days with the sensation that she was floating, still unused to how light her steps could be when she was not further rooted to the earth by a shell of contoured metal.  She was naked and vulnerable now.  But she knew she would attract further attention to her large frame and infamous face if she stomped around in armor just for her own comfort.  So, she would have to settle with the worn belt she wrapped carelessly across her square hips, which held nothing more than a leather sheath and heavy dagger.  Yanking on her boots and cinching the ties just below her knee, she set her shoulders and threw open the door, braced for another day in a world she did not recognize or belong to anymore. 

Though her rooms had been meticulously cleaned and repaired, most of the linens and smaller furniture coming from outside of King’s Landing, the rest of the Red Keep was still a husk.  When the dragon’s breath had first swept through, flames crashing like waves against rose stone, the vegetation quickly ignited, turning the gardens and godswood into a forest of flames that escaped the low walls to dance along hallways and towers.  The fires had been so hot that they had singed and burned straight through the stone, bringing down whole sections of the Maidenvault and collapsing Traitor’s Walk. The colored and gilded windows in the Royal Sept had blown outwards under the destructive power and Brienne would still occasionally find sparkling colorful glass, crushed down to powder, blowing across the paths. 

But that had been many moons ago and she had witnessed the decimation from far away, though it was still close enough that she had felt the heat of the fire breeze across her cheeks and stir her hair. From her viewpoint, it had seemed to cover every visible spot of the Red Keep.  Yet over time, Brienne had come to see the pieces that had been saved, rather than become swallowed up in what had been lost.  There was enough stone to rebuild, enough men alive to do it, and enough hope to try.  It would never be the grand and looming city that it had once been, but she could not find it in herself to mourn the memories that had been set ablaze by Daenerys Targaryen and dowsed to cinders by Jon Snow. 

Such matters were not for her to dwell on and she would have left once the small skirmishes that had erupted throughout the former capital had receded, were it not for one man. Jaime Lannister was still there, most likely already walking the cracked and empty halls as she was, but while she ambled without a purpose, he was constantly buried in the issues of construction. There was no one left to lead, and Brienne doubted few would wish to let King’s Landing be anything more than nightmares and ash, but Jaime took control, leading survivors just as he had led the knights who had left them with something to rebuild.  His guilt and wanderings guided him, gave him an objective, kept his thoughts from sinking too far into the darkest corners of the keep, where the ghosts still lurked to pull him under.  Sometimes, Brienne feared they would succeed. 

She had worried that the fall of peace only sentenced Jaime to certain death, from accusing eyes turning to him in order to bury the last of their known enemies or from his own sense of loss hardening his heart and molding him into a man she would not recognize.  Though, now that she had seen the faint sparks of life in those rich green eyes, the only true greenery left in the keep it seemed, she could move on as well.  At least, she knew that she should.  But at the end of every day, after the last smile and touch and voice in her ears was Jaime’s, she found herself returning to her chamber in the Red Keep, one door down from his own. 

Those nights were lonely, after having him so close during all of the battles and the nights on the road in between. She often wondered if just beyond the other side of their connecting wall he was also lying awake, missing her warmth and the presence that had been so palpable it wrapped around them even while they never met skin to skin.  The need to know kept her waking up and setting about her day, rewarded with sensations that meant he was near.  But close was not good enough anymore.  He was safe and that meant she had to complete her own duties that called her away from him.  And she had nothing to answer, besides the selfish yearnings of her heart. 

She tamped down the thoughts that had begun to swell from a moment of weakness and continued to stalk absently through the cracked and crumbling halls of the Red Keep.  Perhaps she could find Ser Addam and spar with him, though she had little need for practices of war now.  She should be focusing on her departure, yet every time she made to pack her few things or thought about heading to the harbor, bile rose in her throat and she was forced to sit and wait for the churning in her belly to stop. 

Suddenly, as she was passing through an empty courtyard, lost in her own musings, a hand shot out from a recessed passage. Instinctively, Brienne went for her dagger but the arm of her attacker entwined itself with hers and pulled her closer, away from her belt.  She stumbled into him as they fell into the shadows, but he caught them with a flash of teeth and emeralds. 

“My, you are a heavy wench!” Jaime laughed, though he kept his voice conspiratorially low.  Clearly, he was trying to ensure they were not found, but the growling timbre made him sound seductive.  “My strength wasn’t what it used to be when we were fighting for our lives, you know. Though your reflexes are still on point. I barely managed to stop you from skewering me like that boar did Robert.” 

Angrily, she tried to shove away from him, but he held her fast, pinning her right arm against her as he wrapped his left around her body.  “Jaime,” she snapped, still struggling to wriggle free.  “ I could have stabbed you! What are you doing sneaking about?” 

He laughed again, a carefree, deep chuckle that she could feel thunder up her chest before it burst from his bobbing throat. For a moment, Brienne was caught by the smooth ball in his neck which dropped to the small dip between his collar and followed his muscled throat to disappear under his jaw.  Swallowing herself, she moved her gaze up to his chin and beard, streaked with more gray than she could remember, to stare at the twist in his lips as he smiled at her.  There was only the two of them, which was rare these days, and yet he looked like he was the happiest she had seen him in an age.  His green eyes were sparkling and dancing across her face, intent upon her sharing in his mirth and not at all concerned that they were pressed inappropriately together.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Jaime said, ignoring her questioning and her squirming.  She could push him off if she used all of her strength, but a small tickle in the back of her mind was curious what he was up to and why he would not let her go. “Let’s go for a walk.” 

“We can do that any day,” she sighed.

“Not alone we can’t,” he countered. He gave her a friendly squeeze, which forced her entire torso to press against his, causing her to use her free hand to slap his cheek lightly.  She tried to ignore the tingle in her palm from the gentle rake of his stubble. Still smiling he said, “I’ve dodged my duties for the day, Brienne.  Keep me company.” He quickly darted out to capture one of her fingers, waggling near his face, between his teeth and bit down gently before he completely released her and stepped back. 

Brienne snatched up her wrist, too frightened to associate the sensations in her hand with the unseemly actions of the handsome man that was still hovering too close, capturing the air around them and forcing her to drown in his eyes.  Recently, his moods were her sunshine and her shadows and they fluctuated just like the promised comings and goings of the day.  Brienne could enjoy this brief period of the morning warming her face as Jaime playfully motioned to her, but she knew his smile would just as quickly hide behind the clouds and night would come again.  

“Stop looking at me like that,” Jaime grumbled. He set his gaze to her shoulder before sighing angrily and running his calloused hand through his golden curls, setting off glints of silver as graying strands caught the light from the courtyard. He did not give her a chance to reply before he grabbed her hand and pulled her further into the passage. “And don’t fight me on this, you stubborn woman.” 

Giving up on trying to protest, and not truly wanting to, Brienne allowed him to guide her.  “Where are we going?” 

“I don’t know,” he conceded, shrugging. “It doesn’t matter as long as I’m not being bothered.” 

“Jaime…” she started.  She could only imagine the pressure that was dragging his steps, replacing the weight of the armor he was missing as well. His feet, in boots similar to her own, stomped along the broken cobbles and she could trace the tense set of his shoulders and the rigidity of his back through the light tunic he wore. Brienne itched to roll up the sleeve on his left arm, which was spilling down since he must have struggled with tucking it in with his puckered wrist.  Still, appearing slightly disheveled and without his armor or even a dagger, Jaime remained a golden knight, more so since he had stopped wearing the ridiculous gilded hand. 

They walked along in silence, aimlessly turning down halls and finding themselves gliding through intact parts of the keep only to exit by having to climb over rubble and glass to continue their wanderings. All the while, Jaime stayed close to her, enough so that their shoulders would brush together or her fingers would end up catching in his.  And, for the first heartbeat in an age, Brienne could hardly capture the feeling, the quiet was gentle.  It did not seize the air around her or squeeze her heart until it stuttered in her chest. It was simply there. Like Jaime.

“You cut your hair,” he finally said. Even after many years, Jaime could not keep his mouth shut for long, despite not having anything to say. 

“Yes,” she replied as she kicked a piece of warped metal and watched it dance across what had once been a small dining hall but was now open to the sky.  The soft sunlight caught on the tumbling silver as it bounced away.  “I thought I should, before I le-“ She caught herself before the word could fully form, proud that her eyes never wavered from the ruins. 

“Before you what, wench?” Jaime asked. His voice was low again and threatening, but when the sound finally drew her to look at him, the tension in his temples and his narrowed gaze loosened.  He bit down on one of his widest grins while he tilted his head and studied every freckle and scar on her face before noticing her hair.  “You didn’t do a bad job.  Perhaps I should have you cut mine _before_ as well.”

Brienne blushed at the thought of running her large hands through Jaime’s golden curls to carefully shear away unneeded locks, his head turned so that she would be free to smooth her fingers across his scalp without melting under the heat of his emerald gaze.  In the same moment, though, she scowled at his teasing and puzzling reply.  Amidst cracks and crumbles of what was once grand and now broken from war, the reverberation of Jaime’s mocking voice left her feeling hollow and lost.  It was an echo of the past that should have had little weight to sink into the gloom of the present. 

But he simply chuckled at her response and continued on.  

As she absently followed, she realized that she did not recognize this part of the keep.  True, there were many places she had not explored, and had little desire to do so, but it appeared that there were no others in this section, either. For what seemed like the first time since the end of the fighting, Brienne and Jaime were completely alone. 

“There’s still so much work to do,” Jaime grumbled. 

He turned back to wait until she had caught up, watching her pick her way through the scattered debris. But as Brienne listened to the soft skip of pebbles that she kicked up, there was suddenly a singing call that snapped the silence like a harp string.  Looking away from Jaime, Brienne gazed further down the passage and noticed that a sharp shaft of sunlight pierced through the shadows some distance in front of them. 

Noticing her frown, Jaime swiveled his head behind him. Though she could not see his expression, she noticed he tilted his head and knew there was a question wrinkling his smooth forehead and turning his full mouth downwards.  Wordlessly, they walked forward, neither mentioning the speed of their pace as they grew more curious and fervent. 

When they reached the spot and stepped into the pool of warm sunshine, Brienne could not swallow her maidenly gasp fast enough. Usually, Jaime would have made some remark about the soft sound coming from such a brute, but she felt him stiffen beside her and his stump moved up to rub against her wrist.

Through a ragged hole in the passage’s wall, they looked out upon a small garden.  Off to the side was an alcove, set with heavy and large stones that had weathered the thunders of war.  A door, even more hidden than the rest of the space, was set against the wall, clearly sealed and unused enough that the soft breezes that blew through had left a pile of dead leaves pushed up against the bottom.  Curving arches opened up the covered area to what Brienne could only describe as the wild savagery of life. 

And there was so much life, more than Brienne could ever remember seeing amidst the stone and desolation that was now King’s Landing. It was growing from every corner that the sunlight streaming from the open blue sky could penetrate. There was green everywhere, in leaves and grass and thick stalks.  But there were also bright red buds on lithe stems that looked incapable of holding their weight, flowers with swirling flat petals in purples and pinks that reminded her of the twirling skirts of a dancing lady, and sprinkles of pale yellow blooms.  They were a blanket tossed across the ground, rippling in the breeze and winking in the rays of sun that broke apart in the dust and mortar that still clung to the air. 

Without a thought, Brienne left Jaime’s side and walked onto the grass, which threaded up the sides of her boots to brush against her ankles.  The earth beneath yielded to her weight before taking root and springing back to soften her steps. The sweet fragrance of fresh blades bursting beneath her feet and the whisper of more shoots sliding across her leather bound heels was overwhelming to her hungry and deprived senses. 

She hardly realized she was lightly sobbing until her gaze blurred and the hand she had reached out to touch the vines, wrapped in a lover’s embrace around a broken column, trembled before her fingers could be supported by the rough and firm feeling of the bark. She followed the tendrils as they wrapped around chipped bricks and buried into cracks.  Every broken piece that man had built, vegetation had captured and clung to, using the imperfections as an anchor to climb higher to the light, creating a lifeline with which to grow. 

“Brienne,” Jaime breathed reverently. 

She rubbed her cheeks quickly before she looked around to find him leaning against the side of another arch, hovering between this secret place and the dark passage they had been wandering. He was not looking at her, though, but at a looming mass that Brienne had first thought to be another collapsed room. As she was finally able to tear her gaze away from the alcove, she realized that it was a tall oak tree, still young. It had not yet sent out massive twisting branches to skirt the grass and the sky, the kind that Brienne could only recall from distant memory.  Still, the tree was large enough to cast a soft and pleasant shadow while its lobed leaves transformed the sunlight into a green glow that flitted and played with the shafts of yellow rays that escaped to dapple the gnarled roots and grasses that skimmed the trunk. 

“It survived,” Brienne heard herself whisper. She did not think that Jaime caught the words from where he was still standing, with one foot into the alcove and one back towards the rest of the keep.

Another sudden chirp startled her and she spun to find a swift dart out from a broken brick along the wall, its deep azure feathers sparkling in the sun and reminding Brienne of the waters of Tarth catching in the light as it dipped and swelled in the tide. 

She smiled as she let the morning warm her and she breathed in clean, lively air. 

“There you are,” Jaime murmured. 

She looked back at him again, unsure since she had felt him following her movements.  When their eyes met, he moved further into the garden.  Without breaking their stare, he stalked through the tall grasses, his feet hardly making a sound.  Brienne watched as the breeze blew the strands of hair brushing his shoulders into disarray and the mottled light caressed his beard and sharpened his jaw and cheeks.  In the warming day, she shivered as Jaime kept all of his attention on her as he joined her in the wild beauty set against ruins. 

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he repeated from earlier that morning. 

“What are you rambling about now, Jaime?” she huffed and shifted uncomfortably as he continued to study her. “I’ve been with you this whole time.” 

“Maybe,” he shrugged, finally releasing her from the spell.  “But _you_ have been hidden for too long.  I missed you.”   

Not knowing what to say and too tired to let him keep playing with her, Brienne snorted and walked to the slab bench that was tucked into the alcove, letting her feet drag through the grass so that she could continue to watch the blades and flowers part and the occasional disturbed insect fly away.  With a sigh, she plopped ungracefully down on the stone and ignored the slight ache in her rear from slamming on to the hard surface.  She had gotten soft in the moons of inaction. 

Jaime remained where she had left him so she was able to take him in, unarmored and intent, surrounded by foliage and calm. For a moment, she could forget that there were walls and war encapsulating this place and imagined him in some distant field well away from any cities or villages, where there was nothing to destroy the expanse of vegetation.  She thought that, in these days, he would fit better in that place. 

“Promise me you’ll leave this like it is,” she asked him.  “I haven’t seen any other greenery in the keep since…” 

“Me either,” he nodded.  “It’s beautiful.” 

_Beautiful_. He had called her that mockingly long ago, when anger and vitriol were such easy things for him to call forth. He had described his sister as such with a scowl twisting his equally beautiful face into a rictus. But now there was simply truth in the word and it formed delicately on his tongue.  This rightly was beautiful.  And Brienne wished she never had to leave it in the same heartbeat that she wondered when she had started wishing again. 

“Now would be a good time to tell me.” Jaime’s deep, growling voice shook her from her thoughts.  Surprised, she looked at him and noticed that his teeth were so tight that the taut skin wrapped around his jaw was twitching. His green eyes were moss in a moonless night, trapped behind lashes narrowing together like the wires of a closing cage. “Or were you never planning on doing so?” 

“S-ser?” Brienne stuttered.  He was skimming close to the churning waters of rage, pointed on her like a beacon.  Once again, he prowled through the grass, careful not to spook his prey too much. 

“Ah, so you were just going to leave, then,” Jaime snapped. 

When he was within arm’s reach, the toes of his boots bumping the bench, Brienne expected him to sit beside her, but he just made a harsh noise in his throat, rubbing furiously at his cheek with his good hand.  It was strange, looking up at him as she watched him fight down his annoyance and stared back at her from above.  It made her feel small and ridiculous. 

“Jaime…I-I wasn’t sure-how did you kn-know…I mean, I was considering-“ 

“You didn’t think I could read you by now, wench?” he sighed.  Defeated, he finally slunk down beside her.  The bench was long but they sat close enough that their hips were pressed together. Yet while Brienne sat up straight, Jaime rested his elbows on his spread knees and hung his head between them so that his long hair fell into his eyes.  He had to blow away a few pieces when he twisted slightly to glare back at her. “But I wasn’t sure until I started having the harbors watched for you.”    

Brienne could no longer look into his gaze, uncertain if she was seeing hurt or accusation or something else she could not understand. Instead, she stared back out into the garden. “There’s no need for me here. I really should go home.” 

“If it’s so simple as that, why would you keep that decision from me?” 

_Because it’s not simple.  Because I may not be needed here, but_ I need _to be here, to be close to you.  What will happen if we part?_ The thoughts were overwhelming, but she was too much of a coward to voice them. “Because you would have been difficult for the sake of it.” 

“I wouldn’t have stopped you from leaving,” he replied. 

The words hurt more than she had expected, cutting deeper than steel had ever done, and she had many scars to display her previous pains.  Her chest hammered irregularly, constricting her throat and cutting off her air. She turned her head away from him while she fought back for her breath, closing her eyes to seal in the tears that wanted to escape and betray her for a foolish girl, even after all that she had seen and done. 

“I mean, I would have liked an extra day to get matters settled, but I can do all of that sending letters from Tarth I suppose.” 

Without thought, Brienne swung around to face him again, forgetting the redness of her cheeks or the moisture the clung to her lashes.  He sat up straighter when he saw her face, frowning, but she ignored that too, searching for the humor in his eyes and the twitch of a grin on his lips.  There was none. 

“You…you can’t leave,” she spluttered. 

“Why not?” he demanded, equally indignant. 

“You have to stay here and help rebuild King’s Landing.” 

“Why would I stay here if you want to leave?” Jaime snorted. 

When she didn’t answer, because she did not know how to, he pushed himself off his knees so that their shoulders brushed past one another.  Brienne felt his warmth through the thin fabrics, yet again recalling all of the cold nights that they had touched but there had been winter and metal between them then, making the motions harmless.  Now, however, Brienne could feel his intent as he moved closer towards her, ensuring that she was highly aware of his muscles sliding beneath the linen as he pressed them against her own.  His arm caressed hers as he slid it behind them, leaning in with his stump to brush away the dampness below her eyes.  

He seemed surprised and apologetic for a moment, looking away to see her tears wet the puckered and red skin that was wrapped around the end of his wrist.  But it tightened her chest to have him use his stump so unabashedly.  And it could not make the twisting scar on her cheek any more ugly from its touch.  The gnarled flesh had felt plush and soft and she imagined it continuing to run up her temple and into her hair, skimming back down to message her neck.  She could feel the blood rise in her cheeks as his skin warmed her inside and out. 

“You have duties,” Brienne tried, still unable to accept what she hoped he was saying. 

“As do you, on Tarth,” Jaime retorted. 

“Yes.” 

“You stayed here while I did mine and now I’ll go with you so that you may complete yours,” he shrugged as if the entire matter did not hold the weight of her heart in it.  Jaime was offering to stay with her.  

She could not stop the small humorless smile from attempting to tug back her lips from her teeth.  Watching as he rested his stump on the crook of her elbow, fitting so easily Brienne wanted to laugh into hysteria, she said, “What will you do on Tarth?” 

Jaime grinned and when his gaze followed her eyes flitting to his lips, he made sure to wet them with the pad of his pink tongue and bite down on the returning smile.  “I’m sure I’ll find things to occupy myself.” 

It was too much.  Perhaps it was the solitary splendor of the garden or the faint stirrings of hope for life after war that had been slowly blossoming in Brienne’s heart, but she could not accept a possibility she had never allowed to dig into her waking thoughts.  If this was just a fantasy, it would shatter the solid dreams she had been building up amidst the bleakness of her nightmares. 

“I don’t understand,” she beseeched. _Tell me I’m foolish to hope or tell me you don’t want to leave my side, just as I don’t want to leave yours.  Ever._  

He scrunched his face in frustration and opened his mouth to reply, most likely about her thick headedness, when the swift returned with a throaty trill and a hushed flutter of wings. It was heading back to its hole in the brick wall, where Brienne could hear returning chirps chorus out into the warming air.  She strained slightly to watch its dancing flight as it swept past them and followed its path, leaning away from Jaime. 

“Brienne,” he warned as her attention drifted. 

“Hm?” she replied without turning back. 

Suddenly, an arm snaked out to wrap around her, his intact hand grasping just above her hip.  A wave of shocking heat spread through her pelvis, leaving her weak and startled enough that he could use her tensing form to press even closer. 

When his strong fingers squeezed her hard, digging into her tunic and the flesh underneath, she snapped her head towards him, a question already tumbling along her tongue as she wondered if he was mocking her in some way. 

But the movement left her face to face with him, his nose touching hers and she had no time to even suck in a breath before he was tilting his face and leaning further in. Her heart picked up speed as his nostrils brushed against hers, their eyes meeting and connecting, his shining back full of confidence as if daring her to stop him. Jaime did not even close them when his mouth captured her upper lip, holding it safely and protectively within his own. But her lips were still parted and her jaw slack so that he was simply kissing a part of her.  And she was too surprised to respond the way she really wanted to. 

He released her reluctantly, dragging and pulling at her as he moved his head away, green pools drawing her further in even as he let go.  Instinctively, Brienne licked her lips, feeling the burn of his stubble and the taste of him, earthy and dark, invading her senses.  She swiped her tongue across the surface again to ensure she had not missed a spot, making Jaime smile triumphantly. 

As if it was an invitation, and Brienne was not sure it was not, Jaime moved towards her once more.  He was slower than before, letting her become acclimated to his presence in her space, allowing her time to listen to the rapid and shallow breaths that were disturbing the hair around her ears, her own no less ragged as anticipation guided her ever so slightly forward, and to smell the soap and sweat and musk that pervaded him.  And then he was kissing her again, this time with enough force that her head was pushed back into a more favorable position, his nose digging into her cheek, and mouth sealing effectively around hers, stealing her air. There was not even a single thought left in her head as he tightened his grip around her waist, nothing left to focus on but the sight and smell and taste of him, but, still, she clamped down so that she was holding his bottom lip and some of the rough hairs below it. It was an odd sensation, but something twisting pleasantly in her belly was telling her she was doing it right. 

Jaime squeezed her again and sucked lightly into her mouth, sending a wanton whimper to her throat to join her skipping heartbeat. She gathered the courage to tentatively run her dry fingers along his neck, catching on the slight stubble and melting into the smoother pieces of skin in between the hairs. Despite his encouraging rumbles, she kept her other arm by her side, feeling the muscles of his thighs against his breeches and across her knuckles.  His stump rested in the crook of her arm as if they had once been molded of the same flesh.  

He continued, driving her mad with the sensations that seemed to run through every inch of her, until she tentatively tried it on his own lip, darting out her tongue to curiously feel the soft skin she had claimed and the tickling bristle of his stubble. 

Groaning, he nipped at her and she immediately returned the action, enjoying how his flesh yielded to her teeth and the way his approval sent vibrations down her body. 

Just as she was waiting for him to guide her into something else, and braving to touch him elsewhere, he twisted his head away and laughed.  “Gods, you learn quickly, wench.” Despite their lips parting, he still cradled her large form in his strong arms, keeping her tight against him. 

“And-“ Brienne tried to quietly clear her throat from the swell of saliva that was coating it.  Jaime merely smiled wider at that, causing her to look at his moistened lips, red and swelling with blood.  She imagined hers were no better, but she tried to keep the hope, mixing with the fear, out of her voice as she asked, “And what lesson do you think to…teach me?” 

“I hope to be the _only_ one to show you what it truly feels like to be alive,” he murmured. Reaching out, he kissed her cheek chastely. “And I’d like it if you showed me the same.” 

“Jaime…I don’t know how.” 

“You’ve been doing well so far,” he replied. His emerald gaze floated from her hairline to her eyebrows, moving down to brush her nose, and landing again on her lips. She could not stop the burning under her neck as she felt herself blush while his mouth followed his eyes and he began to caress the spot above her lip where she knew her skin was tougher and faintly twisted.  Amongst the other scars and blemishes on her face, she wondered how he had spotted one of the first she had ever received.  “I know most of your wounds, Brienne,” he whispered against her lips. “But where did this one come from?” 

She smiled into him.  “The rocks of Tarth.  My brother and I were playing in the ocean and I was pushed up against them by a strong current.  He pulled me out before I hit my head.” It was odd to tell the story, even stranger to not have it sit in her stomach like she had swallowed one of those rocks. Perhaps the weight had lifted knowing she was going home.  And since Jaime was now going with her, it would truly _feel_ like home again. 

“I’d like to see that place,” he replied with another kiss.  The peppering of them over her heated skin was making her head spin and she leaned in to him to follow his movements, trying to return her own shy pecks. 

Abandoning the teasing, Jaime sunk into a deeper kiss. Sipping at her lips gently, he soon turned to sucking again and then his teeth were ravaging her mouth. Brienne tried to keep up and was rewarded by his chuckles and grunts as their teeth clacked together or she bit too hard. 

He must have felt her losing ground since the hand that was still possessing her waist started smoothing soothing circles through her tunic while he slowed down the kisses, waiting for her to catch up before he switched the pace once more.  As they fell into a rhythm that felt surprisingly like sparring, the give and take natural and fluid, Jaime’s hand stroked higher, signaling his enjoyment and ensuring her comfort.  His warm palm was stroking her ribs, inching towards the soft swell of her breasts, but, as he ran down her side again, he brushed a spot that sent an immediate scampering of fire and ice through her body, sizzling right to her toes and the base of her neck. 

With a squeak, Brienne clamped her right hand down onto his knee and dug the nails of her left into the muscles well above his stump. He barked in surprise as she suddenly clung to him and accidentally sucked and chewed at his lips as the desire swelling in her caused her to tense.  

But Jaime did not stop swirling his fingers around the place on her ribs he had found, using her gasps and shudders to slip his tongue into her mouth.  She had expected it to be forceful and rough, but he may have been uncertain about having her teeth snap closed, as he cautiously dipped it just inside, tenderly touching the tip of her tongue, before he retreated and went back to keep his kisses outside of her mouth. 

When he finally released her so they both could take in lungfuls of green and fragrant air, he found she could not let go of her hold on him.  It was pleasant feeling his flesh and warmth beneath her hands.  She could even faintly make out the hurried pump of his blood through his body under her fingers.  And though he gave her some respite from his caresses, his palm was still flat against the sensitive spot, promising and threatening to move again. 

There was only another stuttering heartbeat for her to mind to think _Gods…_ before she gave herself to his mouth again and felt him offer his tongue another time. Now, she tentatively ran her own along his, reveling in his trembling and the soft force of their dueling tongues. Before she could become overwhelmed again, he retreated hesitantly and rewarded her ardor with kisses to her cheek and jaw and the beginning of her neck. 

“We should probably pack,” he finally sighed. 

When he released her properly and she had to let go of him so that he could stand, the loss of his presence was a palpable emptiness. Hugging her arms, she looked up at him and found him still watching her.  She took comfort in his gaze, the small content smile tugging at the swollen lips that she had just kissed, and the sunlight streaming in to their secluded spot. 

“I will remember this,” she said, taking in the tree and grasses.  “Tarth won’t look the same after having my first glimpse of vegetation again.” 

As she also left the bench, Jaime knelt to pluck one of the dark purple blooms at his feet.  He twirled the delicate stem between his long fingers and they both watched it spin.  Then, he handed it to her. For a moment, she just stood rigidly, staring at the pretty vibrant thing held out for her to take. Jaime, surprisingly patient, simply waited, hardly moving himself, as he kept his arm extended. Finally, though, she snatched it and before he could pull back his arm, she clasped his wrist with her other hand and shoved his unraveling sleeve up to the elbow.  She did not let go until she was sure it was snug and would not roll down again. 

With a troublesome grin, Jaime took two large steps to command her space.  After studying her a bit, he gave a dry, knightly kiss to the corner of her lips, the kind she had imagined would be her first kiss when she was dreaming back on Tarth. But now, she simply eyed the man who freely gave it to her, challenging him to open that pretty mouth of his and say something teasing. 

He did not.  And he left her alone to find her own way to her chambers while she supposed he would make sure that someone else packed his belongings so that he could finalize matters.  Brienne would pack her own items, something she should have done long ago but was glad now that she had waited.  And hidden between the pages of _Braavosi Water Dancing_ she would press the purple bloom to sustain it.  Jaime would call her a romantic maiden if he ever found it, but he would not. Only she would know that between the scripts of battle, life would be preserved.[  
](http://jokertookmypicture.tumblr.com/post/89794313494/he-kissed-her-amid-the-green-spring-foliage-the)

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing and I know nothing.


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